


Apocalypse OWL

by SeeEmRunning



Series: Sam at Hogwarts [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeEmRunning/pseuds/SeeEmRunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astra goes to Hogwarts, and her first four years happen normally enough. Then, in fifth year, an angel named Castiel shows up promising doom and gloom, dashing her hopes for high OWL scores, and a social life, and, really, the rest of her existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fudged up the ages some. Most of the ones I figured out don't actually make an appearance. Literally a full page of names of confirmed next-gen characters and people in Astra's and Teddy's years, and another page of friends for people who entered Hogwarts in Astra's second year (Victoire, Millie&Theo's son, James II). Background work is background and doesn't matter, except when it does.
> 
> Most of this is from Astra's POV, since it turns out that's the most interesting way to do it. (Or at least, it's the most interesting to me.) (Especially with SPN's heavy emphasis on family.)
> 
> And, finally, this is the last part of the story. The only thing I have planned after is this an open-ended "Missing Moments" - scenes that didn't make the final cut (like what Sam did to get detention in his third year), editorializing, 'Process of' posts, various discussions and essays on my Tumblr, and so on and so forth. 
> 
> And so this dedication is split in seven ways:  
> To Supernatural and to Harry Potter, for their mythos;  
> To JK Rowling and to the Supernatural cast and crew, for creating said mythos;  
> To Jared Padalecki, for bringing life to Sam Winchester;  
> To Misha Collins, for whom I broke three toes over the summer in which this series was written;  
> And to you reading this. Your comments, kudos, and well wishes have meant more to me than you can ever know.
> 
> To the story.

"You've got everything packed?" Dad asked.

"Yes," Astra said, exasperated. "And if I don't, Christmas break's not so far away."

Dad smiled at her. "I can't believe you're this old already," he said. "If your mom was here, she'd be so proud."

"I'm sure."

Astra didn't know much about her mother. She had a few vague memories from when she'd been a small child, and she knew her name had been Emily, and she knew she'd been American. Dad didn't talk about her much, but he still wore her engagement and wedding rings around his neck. Ashton had told her in Muggle-school year four that meant he still loved her, but she wasn't sure. Why would he love a woman who'd been dead for years?

"C'mere." He pulled her into a hug, one-armed on his end because his right arm didn't work. The most she'd been able to get out of him was that he'd been hurt in the war, whichever war that was. She didn't even know which world the war had been fought in. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad," she said, hugging him back.

He kissed her hair. "Let's get you to the train station. Grab your trunk."

Astra _hated_ Apparition, but after being Side-Alonged all her life, she had gotten used to the sensation of being squeezed through a very narrow tube. This time was no different, except maybe for a little extra pressure because of the trunk. Dad had told her that he'd once had to Apparate six adults under threat of death, but Astra wasn't sure she believed him. It would have been too hard.

They reappeared on a busy train platform. "Sam!" a woman called.

Sam grinned at her. "Hey, Tonks. Astra, you remember Teddy, don't you?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning at him. "Hi."

"Hey, Astra," he said, grinning back. "Hope you're in Gryffindor with me!"

"I hope I'm in Slytherin like my dad," she retorted.

"What House was your mom in?" Teddy asked

"She was American," Dad interjected. "House F. It's how we met." He smiled a little sadly.

Teddy's mom patted Dad's shoulder. "Another year, then! Your daughter's first! What say we get drunk tonight?"

Dad laughed. "I have corridor duty tonight. Some other time, Tonks. Anyone else here?"

"I don't think so. The Weasleys' oldest comes in next year. Victoire, maybe? Bill and Fleur's kid."

The train whistled before Dad could say anything in reply. "I love you, baby doll," he said, hugging her again. "You have a good year."

"You too, Dad," she said, grabbing her trunk. Dad had bewitched it with a Feather-Light Charm before they'd left, so it was a simple matter to get it onto the train.

"I'll see you around, Astra," Teddy said when they were both on board. "I'm meeting friends."

"Where do I go?" she asked, mild panic rising at the thought of her only wizarding friend leaving her on her own.

"Just find an empty carriage, or one with other first-years," he told her. "They'll be your friends pretty fast."

"Wait!" she said, but he was gone, lost to the crush of people. She took a deep breath ("Best way to compose yourself, baby doll"), shouldered her trunk, and started down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment. She found one halfway down the train and lifted her trunk into the storage compartment above her seat, idly noting the design of _PP+DM_ inside a heart scribbled onto the wall in indelible ink.

"Are these seats taken?" somebody asked tentatively. Astra looked to the door to find a black-haired boy smiling at her, dimples in full force.

"No," she said, smiling back.

"Oh, good," he said. "I was afraid you would say 'yes' and I'd have to find somewhere else." His trunk thudded into the doorframe. "Oh, crap."

She giggled. "Here, let me help you with that."

"Thanks. I'm Drew, by the way, Drew Timmons."

"Astra Winchester." She grabbed one end of the trunk and hauled. God, how did Dad _lift_ these things without Feather-Light Charms? Between the two of them, they got the trunk into the storage above the seats.

"Oh, good, there's an empty spot," a new boy said. "Budge up, will you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stuffed his own trunk into the storage compartment and sat next to Drew. "Charles."

"I'm Drew."

"Astra."

"Hmm. Where do you think you'll be, then? I'm going for Hufflepuff. My family's been Hufflepuff six generations back." He pushed his chest out proudly.

"What the bloody hell is Huffletough?" Drew asked, bewildered.

"It's a House," a new girl informed them. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"No, of course not," Astra said. "Need help with your trunk?"

"No," she said simply, pulling it in behind her and shoving it up into overhead storage. "And it's Hufflepuff," she added to Drew as she sat beside Astra. "I'm Samantha."

The other three gave her their names, and then there was a beat of awkward silence until Astra cleared her throat. "I hope I'm in Slytherin," she said. "My dad was in there."

"Both of my parents were," Samantha said, tossing her sleek black hair over her shoulder.

"Slithering?" Drew asked helplessly, causing the other three to launch into an explanation of the Hogwarts House system. None of them knew how they were Sorted, but that didn't stop them from speculating.

"Maybe it's a test," Drew said. "A personality test, like Myers-Briggs-"

"What?" Samantha interrupted. "Myers-Briggs?"

The conversation detoured into Muggle personality tests and psychology, and then into movies, and then into books. Drew was a Muggle-born, so he knew nothing about wizarding pop culture; Samantha was from an old pureblood house and had very little knowledge of Muggle entertainment. Charles and Astra knew a bit about both, Astra because Dad had enrolled her in Muggle school, Charles because his mother was a witch and his father was a Muggle.

Those discussions lasted until a voice came over the intercom: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."

"Oh, damn," Samantha said. "We need to change."

They exploded into movement, and by the time the train slowed to a stop, they were dressed in their uniforms. Astra helped Charles with his tie; her father had shown her how to do a basic half-Windsor knot, struggling a little to do it one-handed but succeeding eventually. It was the only time Astra had ever seen him wear a necktie, though Uncle Adam wore one every time they got together for Christmas and for his son Michael's birthday in the middle of July.

They joined the crush of students in the corridor eagerly pushing towards the doors. No sooner were they on the platform than they heard, "Firs' years this way! Firs' years over here!"

"Look," Drew said, pointing at the largest man Astra had ever seen. He was holding a bright lantern above his head as he called for the first-years to join him. The four fought their way over to stand with him.

"'Ello there," he said happily. His salt-and-pepper beard was so thick they couldn't see his mouth moving behind it. "This all o' yeh? Give it a mo', see if anyone else is comin'...firs' years this way!"

Astra glanced around. Other than the four of them, there were perhaps two dozen kids standing around the gigantic man. The older students were moving on, following a path that disappeared into a forest. The Off-Limits Forest, maybe? Her dad had mentioned it once or twice, and made her promise she'd never go inside without a teacher or, at the very least, a few seventh-years who would remain sober the entire time and could cast a speaking Patronus.

"Tha's it, then, follow me," the giant said. He turned and led them down a rocky path to the shore of a lake, upon which sat a fleet of rowboats. "No more'n four ter a boat," he said, motioning them forward. Astra, Charles, Samantha, and Drew quickly claimed one for themselves, and a moment later Hagrid shoved them off into the water. Other boats quickly joined them.

"Onwards!" the man cried, and the boats lurched forwards, cutting paths through the still water and leaving ripples in their wake. Astra saw people around her grab the sides of the boat in shock or panic, but she just grinned. This was _brilliant._

"Firs' glance of the castle jus' ahead," he called, and there were gasps form the boats in the lead. Astra, too, gaped when the school came into view; it sat on top of a cliff, light blazing from windows and towers. The full moon was just rising, silhouetting a tower on the east and showcasing a gothic beauty.

She watched the castle draw closer until the man called, "Duck yer heads!" and she had to tear her eyes away to see the first boats coasting into a cave. She closed her eyes as hanging plants slapped her face, and kept them closed until the boat ground to a halt against the shoal.

When everyone had disembarked, the man led them all up to a door. He knocked three times with one massive fist, and the doors opened a beat later to reveal a tall, thin woman in dark green robes. "The firs' years, Professor Vector," the man said.

"Thank you, Professor Hagrid," Vector said, smiling at them all. "Well, come in, come in."

They ended up in a small room off a massive entryway. "My name is Professor Vector, the Arithmancy professor at this school," she began. "I am also the Deputy Headmistress. While you are here, you will be sorted into one of four houses. These houses will be like your families. You may be awarded points for doing well, but any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup.

"Now, if you will excuse me." She hurried out the door at the back of the room.

Before they could begin talking, pearlescent people floated through the wall twenty feet above their heads. "I say we ought to ask," said a man in an old-fashioned ruff and waistcoat. "He protected Myrtle, after all."

"But is permanent banishment really fair?" argued an overweight man in the robes of a monk. "Everyone deserves a chance."

"Peeves has had thousands of chances," said a woman dismissively. "He doesn't deserve any more. He certainly _can_ do it; the question is if he will…."

They floated through the other wall, taking the conversation with them, perhaps three seconds before Vector opened the door. "Right, then! All of you, follow me," she said.

She led them back out into the entryway, and then into an opulent hall within which sat hundreds of students at four tables and the teachers at one table, set lengthwise along the other end of the room. A stool with an old hat was directly in front of them. Astra caught sight of people pointing upwards and looked up herself. The hall had no ceiling; the full moon shone brightly above them. Odd.

She looked back at the older students. All of them were staring at that stool, so Astra looked herself, curious about what could draw their attention. She had her answer a moment later: a rip along the brim opened and the thing began to sing.

_Welcome to Hogwarts, one and all,  
You all know who I am;  
I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
Who puts you into camps._

_We may be divided,  
But we all are one,  
Everyone here will be Sorted  
When tonight is done._

_Perhaps you'll go to Gryffindor,  
Where live the brave and daring.  
There dwell the adventurers  
Chivalry and nerve mark Gryffindors' caring._

_Or perhaps in Hufflepuff,  
Where loyal people find friends.  
Their steadfast nature and love of work  
Are more than merely trends._

_Maybe you'll be in Ravenclaw,  
For the smart and well-read.  
They always seek knowledge  
To stuff in their heads._

_Or maybe you belong in Slytherin,  
Where the cunning are sent.  
Ambitious people who aren't afraid  
To tell others to get bent._

_So put me on, and I can tell  
Just where you belong  
Four houses, yes, but just one school  
And you'll join in the throng!_

Thunderous applause greeted the Sorting Hat's pronouncement. Vector stepped forward, cleared her throat, and called out, "Arthur, Rory!"

A red-haired boy tripped forward and sat nervously on the stool. The hat was lowered onto his head, and a beat later the Hat yelled out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting went on. Samantha went to Slytherin, Drew to Ravenclaw, Charles to Hufflepuff.

Astra was the very last one called, and her name brought forth whispers. "Winchester?" "Professor Winchester?" "Daughter or niece, do you think?"

Vector smiled comfortingly at her when she sat on the stool. A moment later, the world went black and a little voice in her ear said, _Winchester, eh? I had the pleasure of Sorting your father._

Astra gulped. She hadn't expected the hat to talk.

_Let's see here. Oh, dear, very little cunning, you'd rather come at a problem head-on, wouldn't you? And you'd rather find an easy way to solve a problem, so not Hufflepuff. Oh, here it is. There's only one place for you!_

"GRYFFINDOR!" she heard the hat roar.

She took off the hat and offered it to Vector, who looked completely flabbergasted. Her smile faltered, and she looked up at the Head Table. Most of the older professors also looked startled, but a round-faced man was clapping just as hard as she assumed her father was. Dad was beaming at her, too. She grinned back and scampered off to join the Gryffindor table.

Teddy clapped her shoulder when she slid into place beside him. "Welcome to Gryffindor!" he said cheerfully.

"Thanks," she said, beaming at him as the plates in front of them filled with food.

Over dinner, the first-years got to know each other a little better. Michelle Kinyon had been raised in the wizarding world; she wore her brown hair in two braids. Laura Lipschitz was a plain-looking Muggleborn. Sitting next to her was Rocket Squirl, a mousy boy who smiled shyly as he introduced himself. Lily Calla was a delicate-looking blonde who could barely be heard as she told them her name. Albus Patil was olive-skinned and black-haired with an aquiline nose. Billy Thompson was pale, with a round face and bulbous nose; finishing out their year was Rory Arthur, the redhead who had been first Sorted.

The plates cleared of dessert eventually, and the woman in the middle stood. "I have a few start-of-term announcements to make," she began in the tone of someone used to being listened to. "Quidditch tryouts will be held this upcoming Saturday. The Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, _forbidden_ to students unless accompanied by a teacher. The list of banned items, which includes everything that can be purchased from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes with the exception of the products from their defense line, can be found on Mr. Filch's door.

"And now, to bed. Classes begin tomorrow morning."

The hall erupted into conversation. A smiling young man and a surly-looking young woman appeared near the first-years. "I'm Dale, and this is Sunny," the boy said. "We're your prefects. Let's get up to the common room, shall we?"

He led them out into the Entrance Hall and up a short flight of marble steps. "This is the Grand Staircase," he called as a confusing series of staircases appeared above them. "They like to move, so be careful. Nobody's died in going on two centuries now, and I'd hate for one of you to break the streak."

"Is he joking?" Rocket whispered to her.

"I think so," Astra said uncertainly.

"This tapestry here," Dale said, lifting up a woven scene of frolicking unicorns, "hides a shortcut up to the seventh floor."

"Is it safe?" Laura asked uncertainly.

"Of course it is," Sunny said flatly. "In you go."

The hidden passageway was cold, unlit stone. The prefects did a spell to create light at the ends of their wands and led them up a long, spiral staircase. The first-years were all out of breath by the time they reached the top, but the prefects weren't even fazed. "You get used to it," Sunny said, sounding bored.

"Remember this one," Dale said, gesturing to the door they'd just come through. "See the cross-hatching on the jam?" There were deep score marks on the right side. "Someone put that there a while back so it wouldn't get lost. This way to the common room."

He led them down the hall. Right, left, left, right, third left. "That's the Grand Staircase," Dale said, pointing to the left. "This painting, here, is the Fat Lady. She guards the common room. Tell her the password and she lets you in. _Goldenrod._ "

The painting swung forward on oiled hinges, and the prefects gestured them forward through the hole behind it.

The common room was _huge_. It was decorated lavishly in rich reds and golds. A roaring fireplace, around which clustered a few sofas and squashy armchairs, drew the eye.

"Girls' dorm to the left, boys' to the right," Dale said. "Now come on, you lot, to bed. Classes start early."

Sunny led the four of them to a door at the very top of the tower. A brass plaque to the right read _First-Year Girls_.

"I am two floors below you," Sunny said. "If you need anything. Please don't need anything. The bathroom is attached to the dorm. Go get ready for bed."

She left without a backwards glance.

"She's cheerful," Laura muttered.

Michelle yawned. "I'm more interested in bed," she muttered.

They found four four-posters in the room just through the door, all draped with maroon hangings and comforters. Astra instantly claimed the one directly to the right of the door. The other three chose their own beds, and it took perhaps half an hour for the four of them to unpack and get ready to sleep..

"Good night," Michelle said sleepily.

"Night," they muttered, and dropped off to sleep.  
***  
The first class they had was double Potions with the Slytherins, taught by a woman named Ferrington. "There will be very little wand-waving here," she began. "Potions is a very dangerous subject. It's also one of the most powerful branches of magic. If I catch you fooling around in here, there _will_ be consequences.

"Now. Let's start with a quick quiz to see if you read the book over the summer!" She said it as if she was giving them an ice cream on a sunny day, and smiled at their groans. "Aw, I know. You're taking it anyway."

Astra looked down at the test when Ferrington put a piece of parchment on the table in front of her.

_1\. What does mixing powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood create?_

_2\. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?_

_3\. Where are bezoars found?_

She jotted down guesses for the ten-question quiz, but she was still the last one done. "All right," Ferrington said cheerfully. "Everyone pass them in, and we'll go over the answers. Then we'll brew a simple Sleeping Drought."

Astra worked with Michelle that day, and when they were done, Ferrington pronounced it 'passable', though she did warn them to be sure to take the cauldron off the fire and let it cool for the full three minutes before they added the nettles.

Then came lunch, and they chattered about classes and the foot-long essay they'd been assigned. Lily didn't participate, though she did jot a few things down on her parchment. When they were done, they traipsed out to the greenhouses and Professor Longbottom. Astra vaguely remembered her dad mentioning him, not just as a teacher but as a school friend. That would put them at about the same age, but Longbottom looked years younger than her father, even with a scar coming down each side of his face. "Hello, everyone!" he called cheerfully when they were inside. "I'm Neville Longbottom, and I'm going to be your Herbology professor while you're here! Now, Herbology requires both a delicate touch and a certain amount of strength - it's no use trying to repot a Flutterby bush if you rip it in half or can't get it out of the pot, yeah?

"There is also no magic allowed in this greenhouse," he continued. The students groaned. "Yeah, I know. But it has to be done. Some of these plants react violently to magic, and you've just come from Potions, you don't even know any spells yet, unless the prefects have taught you _Lumos_ already.

"Today's going to be a simple exercise in replanting and fertilizing simple plants. I have Honking Daisies here. Put on your gloves, take four plants, four extra pots, a pot of fertilizer, and a pot of dirt per table. Replant the daisies and add some fertilizer to the soil - that simple. Ready? Go!"

Astra's daisy was exceptionally uncooperative. Every time she touched it it would make a noise like a foghorn, startling her into yanking her hand back every time. She'd done a little bit of gardening before, with her father, but they used only Muggle plants so they wouldn't attract attention from the neighbors. The most magic they used was when Dad couldn't do something with one arm.

"Stop flinching," Longbottom told her sternly. "They can't hurt you."

"I know, but they're so _loud!_ "

Longbottom chuckled. "I take it your parents aren't screamers."

"No, he's not."

"That explains it. Look, the most they can do is make a loud sound. Are you really going to let _that_ frighten you away? It's meant to keep deer from eating their leaves. Are you a deer?"

"No!"

"Then don't be afraid," he said. "How are the rest of you doing?"

Astra looked at the rest of her table. Two of the others weren't having much better luck. Rocket had spilled potting soil all over the table, and Albus had broken his first pot and was still trying to wrestle the plant out of its original dirt. Lily, however, was shoveling handfuls of fertilizer around the daisy that was sitting in the new pot.

"Not so much fertilizer," Longbottom told her. "But otherwise, good job."

Lily turned beet red and looked down at her daisy before she mumbled something. Longbottom just nodded and moved on.

"Stupid plant," Astra muttered. "If I punch you will you shut up?"

"Worth a try," Rocket said as his own daisy let out another deafening _HONK!_

At the end of the double period, they washed their hands and trudged back up to the castle for dinner. The only one of them not covered in dirt was Lily. "How'd you do that?" Billy asked her.

Lily blushed again and shook her head. Billy, Albus, and Rocket kept needling her for tips all the way up to the castle and for ten minutes into dinner before Laura finally told them to knock it off. When they were done, they went back to the common room and spent maybe fifteen minutes working on the Potions essay before they turned to Exploding Snap. Michelle won every game.

Their first class with Astra's father was first period the very next morning. She sat in the middle of her friends, eager to see how her father ran classes.

He swept in in his customary khakis and polo a minute before the bell rang. "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "I'm Sam Winchester, your Defense professor. It looks like we're all here, so why don't we get started with roll call? Rory Arthur?"

"Here!" he said, raising his hand.

Dad checked it off and ran through them all. "Great! We're all here. Now, this first class is mostly going to be an overview of what you'll be doing these next seven years and a discussion of recent history. Binns absolutely refuses to cover anything after about 1870" - he rolled his eyes - "so the wars we've fought since then fall to me to teach.

"Does anyone know what the most recent war we fought was about? Don't raise your hand, just shout it out."

"Blood purity," Michelle said instantly.

"What?" Laura asked.

"You'd be a Muggleborn, then?" Dad asked. Laura nodded. "So am I, it's all good. Blood purity refers to how many people in your family have been wizards. Did you learn about slavery in your primary school?" Laura nodded again. "It's like that. If you had a slave ancestor, you were lesser status. Muggles, in this comparison, are the slaves. Muggleborns are people with two non-magic parents, purebloods can trace their wizarding lineage back, I think it's _twenty_ generations, which is around three hundred years, on both sides of the family.

"The last war we fought was between Lord Voldemort, a pureblood supremacist despite being half-blood himself, and the rest of us. Albus Dumbledore, McGonagall's predecessor as headmaster of this school, ran the resistance."

Rocket raised his hand. "Why was a headmaster a general?"

Dad shrugged with his good shoulder. "You'd have to ask somebody who made that decision. I was barely fifteen when the second Voldemort War started, and Dumbledore had been general in the first war. That had ended fifteen years earlier. Voldemort was hurt badly, and it took him fifteen years to recover, and then the second war began. I'm sure you've all seen the plaques around the school - those are to honor the people who died here in the final battle."

"The final battle was at a _school?_ " Billy asked, sounding horrified.

Dad nodded grimly. "I got recalled from America for it. I was in Auror training at the time, and I got as many from my school as I could. We came over and fought. We lost a lot of people that day. It's how I lost the use of my arm - a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers, got under my shield.

"And _that_ is why your first year will be focused on shields. Shields are the most useful combat spell to know, because they're what keep you alive long enough to keep fighting. We'll get to that in a minute, but first, we're going to talk about how the next years will go.

"The first three years of your education, we're going to be doing basic Defense work. This year will be focused entirely on shields and light hexes, jinxes - things that won't hurt somebody if it gets through a shield. Your second year will be more advanced hexes and jinxes, and your third year will involve curses and creatures that are annoyances. In your fourth year, we'll begin one-on-one dueling, and in fifth year you'll learn the Patronus Charm, dangerous creatures, and how to fight in groups. If you continue on to NEWT Defense, which I hope you will, your sixth year will focus on advanced shielding, hexing, and dueling techniques, and in your seventh year you will be divided into groups of mixed ability and fighting each other just as you would in a real battle, learning to defend yourself against various creatures, and working on agility. Any questions so far?"

They all shook their heads.

"Great! Let's back to discussing Voldemort's wars."

They were released an hour later for Transfiguration after an announcement that they were welcome to come by his classroom whenever the door was open. Transfiguration taught by a sharp-looking middle-aged man named Issitudio who began class by turning his desk into a pig. "Who can name a reason this spell would be used?"

They looked at each other uncertainly, and then Rocket put up a hand. "Entertainment?"

"Sure," Issitudio said. "That's about the _only_ reason it could be used, in fact. It's a bit useless, as these things go, and so it's a prime example of what you will _not_ learn in this class."

Astra exchanged grins with Albus. This would be good.

Their hopes were dashed by the end of the class. They'd spent an hour learning to transform a matchstick into a needle. "When will we ever use _this?_ " Laura grumbled, to a collective shrug.

After lunch came Charms, taught by a wispy old man with terrifyingly large eyebrows named Ludwig, and then history, taught by a ghost with an incredibly boring voice who went by the name of Binns. Astra struggled to listen to him, worrying what her father would think, but the rest of them played tic-tac-toe the whole time.

Thursday brought their first flying lesson, which was taught by a tough old woman named Hooch. They rose three feet in the air and returned to the ground close to a dozen times before Hooch got them into a line and sent them on a slow, meandering ride across the grounds.

They settled in over the next few months, and time flew. Almost before they knew it Christmas break was upon them, and everyone but Astra and a handful of older students were going home. Even most of the teachers left. Astra found herself playing solitaire for hours at a time until she grew bored and started wandering around the castle. She found two different secret passageways over the course of the week, one that led down to the lake and one that went from the Astronomy Tower to Ravenclaw Tower.

So few of them stayed over break that when she went down to the Great Hall for dinner on Christmas Day, there was just one table.

"It seemed wrong to use the House tables with so few us here," McGonagall said. "Have a seat, Miss Winchester."

She sat down across from her father, who smiled at her. "Enjoying the break?"

"Yeah," she said. "Lot of Exploding Snap."

He chuckled. "I remember that one."

"You always had your nose in a book," Professor Longbottom said teasingly.

Dad laughed. "Can you blame me? Name one year somebody didn't almost die while we were students here."

Longbottom rolled his eyes. "That's not fair, and you _know_ it."

"If life was fair, where would the fun be?" Dad retorted. Astra giggled, remembering when she'd gotten in trouble at primary school for something she hadn't done. Dad had told her the same thing then - after shouting down the teacher.

"Shall we eat?" McGonagall intervened.

"Is Sibyll not joining us?" Dad asked, spooning peas onto his plate. "She'd make thirteen, after all."

"That sounds like a story I haven't heard," Longbottom said, passing Astra the turkey.

McGonagall looked like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes, but Dad laughed again. "Third year. She came down to Christmas dinner - we were all at one table that year, too - and screamed. 'When thirteen dine together, the first to rise shall be the first to die!'" He said the last in a shrill tone clearly meant to be reminiscent of the divination professor Astra had yet to meet. "I was the first to stand, and she started yelling that it meant I'd die before anyone else at the table."

"Good thing you didn't," one of the older students said with feeling.

Dad avoided his eyes. "Yes, well, then we all went down to the Chamber of Secrets and explored a bit. I've been considering owling Harry and asking him to teach me the command to open it, give a bit of weight to the basilisk story."

"Are you seeing family this holiday?" Longbottom asked quickly.

"Tomorrow we're traveling to Kansas to see Adam and Dean." Astra swallowed, knowing it likely also meant they'd be seeing her grandfather, who always left a bad taste in her mouth. Her uncles were nice enough, but Uncle Dean had a tendency to tell her bloody stories about her father, which Dad clearly disliked. She wasn't even sure why the two of them were included; Uncle Adam was the only one Dad seemed to actually like. "And Lianne, beforehand. What about you?"

She liked Grandma Lianne. She always got a little melancholy when she talked about Christina, who had died when Astra was seven, but she was a lovely woman, all told.

A sixth-year poked her. "Pass the rolls, midget."

She rolled her eyes but passed him the basket. Dad eyed them for a moment before apparently deciding not to intervene, for which she was grateful.

The meal was a quiet affair. Dad and Longbottom told them stories about their school days - "Hey, remember when Harry flew that car here?" "Yeah, and the rest of us wondered if rules applied to Gryffindors?" - but the rest of them were quiet. Astra watched her father's plate the whole time, and when more food vanished with the plate than went into his stomach, she winced internally. The visit to her relatives must be bothering him.

It was with that thought in mind she followed him to his office after lunch. "Marry Christmas, Dad," she said when they were alone, offering him a package.

He smiled at her. "Merry Christmas, baby doll," he said, ruffling her hair. She yelped and tried to hand-comb it straight again while he slit open the packaging one-handed, a skill he'd perfected over the years. "Sweets, huh? Thanks, Astra. This is for you."

She accepted the box he handed her and opened it to find a silver necklace made of small dots and thin wire. "It's the constellation Orion," Dad said, watching her closely. "The Greek god of hunting. Lianne and Christina both had tattoos of it. An old myth says that those who wear his mark are blessed with fortune and skill.

"If you want - and you are certainly not _required_ to want - I can teach you to hunt. On my mother's side, our family has been hunting since the Middle Ages, if not before. Dad and Dean have been after me to teach you since they learned you existed." He half-smiled, but it was painful-looking. "It's completely up to you. It'll mean work, and you'll get hurt."

"Is hunting worth it?" she asked, looking down at the box.

Dad tilted his head. "That depends on who you ask," he said at last. "I couldn't live hunting full-time. Dean and John live for it. Adam helps out occasionally with big hunts, but he doesn't want to get too involved. He wasn't raised to it, and he never trained for it. He doesn't get the appeal. For me, it's about saving people. For John, it's about the hunt."

She swallowed. "I'd - I'd like to learn," she said.

Dad smiled at her. "I thought you might. We can start next week? Today should be Christmas, and only Christmas."

She smiled back. "Can you help me with the clasp?"

"Of course." He flicked his wand, and the necklace rose, chain unwinding. A moment later, it fastened around her neck, and the silver glinted off her skin. She pulled her dark hair from under the chain.

She leaned forward to hug him, and he hugged her back, thumb sweeping over the outside of her arm. "I love you, baby doll," he said.

"Love you too, Dad."

They pulled away from each other after a beat. "So," Dad said. "Exploding Snap. I was never very good at that game. Millie beat me every time."

Astra smiled wickedly and pulled out a deck. "In that case, fancy a round?"


	2. Chapter 2

They landed in America with twin grunts. Trans-Atlantic Portkeys were always long and nausea-inducing; from Scotland to Kansas was an incredible journey. Sam kept his arm around Astra until he was sure she had her feet under her. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, pushing away. Sam let her go.

"Hey!" someone called. They turned to see both of his brothers ambling toward them, Adam's son Michael trailing behind.

"Adam! Dean!" Sam said happily.

"Dad's in Wisconsin," Dean said, grabbing him in a hug.

Sam hugged him, then Adam. "How's Melinda?" he asked.

"She's all right. Hey, Astra!" Adam said. "How's Hogwarts?"

"Good." She sat on the couch.

They swapped stories of hunts until the oven beeped, signalling dinner. "Hey, Sam," Adam said, pulling the casserole out of the oven. "Remember when you tried to make dinner the first year you were with us?"

Sam groaned. "What happened?" Astra and Michael both asked eagerly.

"He almost burned the house down," Adam said. "Flames ten feet high."

"Ignore him, he's making that up," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "The turkey was a little dry, that's all."

"I am not!" Adam said. "Astra, you should have seen it."

"So how's work?" Sam asked quickly.

Adam shrugged. "It's work," he said. "Sister of a patient tried to hex me yesterday."

"Fu- uh, dimwit," Dean said.

Astra scowled at him. "You can swear, you know. I am _eleven_."

"I know," Dean said. "You're still a midget, though. No swearing until you're at least five-six."

"No fair! _Dad!_ "

Sam chuckled. "I'm with Uncle Dean on this one, baby doll."

"Same goes for you, Michael." Adam pulled his phone from his pocket. "Melinda's on her way."

"I've been wanting to meet her," Dean said, a grin splitting his face. "Make sure she's good enough for my baby brother."

Adam whimpered. Sam grinned. This would be fun.

Melinda, who was both Adam's wife and Michael's mother, was a jaw-droppingly gorgeous redhead whose looks were on par with Jessica Rabbit. The first words out of Dean's mouth were, "You are _way_ out of my brother's league."

Melinda's smile faltered, and Adam snapped, "Shut up, Dean."

"So where do you work?" Sam asked her quickly.

She blinked. "I'm a microbiologist working with the US military, focusing on infectious diseases."

"What?" Astra asked blankly.

"Like the flu," Sam explained. "Some sicknesses don't spread easily, and some are like the flu. She studies the ones like the flu."

"Oh."

"So - uh - what are y'all's names?" Melinda asked.

"Dean." He waggled his eyebrows and looked her up and down. She zipped up her blue jacket.

"I'm Sam. This is my daughter, Astra."

"Well, hi, Astra," Melinda said, smiling down at her. "Where do you go to school?"

"Hogwarts."

"That's - um-"

"British magic school," Adam explained.

"Huh. Wait, isn't that where Sam works?"

"Yep," he said.

"So, Astra, is it weird to have your dad as a teacher?"

"Not really."

"Dean, why don't you come with me for a second?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, fine. Don't go anywhere, sweetheart." Dean followed Adam out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about him," Sam said. "He can be a real jerk."

"Nothing I haven't heard before." She shrugged a little sadly. "I'm a pretty woman surrounded almost exclusively by men."

"Still, you shouldn't have to put up with it."

"Maybe not. So where's your wife?" she asked.

Sam winced. "She's not with us anymore," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Astra and I still see her family sometimes, though. She spent a month with them this past summer."

"It was so much fun! We went horse riding!"

"Yeah? Why don't you tell me more about that?" Melinda asked, crouching down to be on her eye level.

Astra grinned and launched into tales of how she'd spent July. She chattered all the way through dinner and dessert, sharing space with Michael, who told Astra about the time he'd accidentally shrunk a bully to six inches tall. Dean managed to avoid saying anything else to make Melinda uncomfortable. Sam and Adam talked about their jobs - Adam was now the Healer at Phoenix Institute of Magic - and how Sam was still trying to convince McGonagall to institute a sex ed class, or at least have the Heads of House talk to their students.

"It's like, puberty at the beginning of second year, sex at the beginning of fifth," Sam said. "That's about right for their age level, I don't know _why_ she'd rather have two pregnancies a year than actually teach them about contraception."

Adam shook his head. "You've only got two? Phoenix has four or five. Fucking conservatives have us teaching _abstinence._ "

Sam glanced over to check that Astra and Michael were still engaged with Melinda and lowered his voice. "You ever talk to them about it anyway?"

Adam shook his head. "Not in class. After. I tell them if they have any questions I'm available."

"And you get people coming?"

"Mostly girls," Adam said. "I can't tell you how many of them come running to me panicking when they get their first periods. Nobody ever told them it would happen, and they thought they were dying."

Sam shook his head. "Poor kids."

"Let me tell you about the guy who came in with six legs and tentacles instead of eyes," Adam said, and launched into a tale involving bullies, crushes, alcohol, and teenage hormones.

They left not long after dinner ended. "What'd you think, baby doll?" Sam asked when they landed in his office.

"I like Melinda."

"So do I," Sam said, smiling fondly at her. "Now. Let's talk about teaching you to hunt."  
***  
School resumed. Final exams seemed much closer on this side of Christmas, and Astra and her friends spent their time studying. She met with her father every Saturday just after lunch, and he taught her how to fight. Even one-handed, he was more than capable of kicking her butt, but he didn't try, focusing instead on teaching her how to hurt _him._ She gave him a black eye in March, and he whooped, grabbed her up, and whirled her around. He didn't heal it with magic, swearing to her it was a badge of pride.

Then finals were upon them, and Astra and her friends spent a week answering questions about Sweating Solutions and the inventor of Self-Stirring Cauldrons, and then they were free.


	3. OWL year

"I love you, baby doll. Have a good year," Dad said affectionately. It was the same thing he'd said at the beginning of the last four school years.

"Dad," she muttered, twisting away from his hug. "We're in _public._ "

"Right, sorry," he said, stepping back. "I'll see you at school."

"Right," she said, and hopped on board, checking each carriage methodically for any sign of her friends. She found them about a third of the way back and stepped inside. "Hey!" she said cheerfully.

"Hey!" Rocket - who had begun going by 'Rocky' in their second year - said, scooching over to make room for her. "How were your holidays?"

"All right, yours?"

He shrugged. "Same as always. Oh, hey, you got glasses!"

She resettled the purple frames. "Last month."

"I went to Australia," Laura announced unasked. "We saw kangaroos and some dingoes."

"Cool," Astra said, feigning interest.

Laura went on about seeing a show at the Sydney Opera House for almost an hour while the rest of them started a game of Gobstones.

Astra wasn't looking forward to her OWL year, and she wished she could have at least a little time on her own, without her dad watching her every move. Nobody would date her because they didn't want to deal with her father watching them. She'd only had one kiss, and she was fifteen! She wasn't hideous, she knew that, and her dad was wrecking her chance for a real social life.

The Opening Feast occurred as it always did: the Sorting, the feast, the speech from McGonagall. The only real exciting thing was that Dad was named Head of Slytherin House, and she grinned and clapped for him. He blushed, ducked his head, and waved.

The next morning dawned bright and far, far too early. Astra groaned and buried her head in her pillow, wondering how she could be expected to be up and about when her bed was so soft and lovely.

Something soft hit her side with a _thump._ "Up and at 'em, lazybones!" Laura chirped.

Astra lifted her head to glare at her. "Did you open the curtains?"

"Yep! First day of class, can't be late!"

Astra scowled and grabbed her glasses. "How are you already dressed?" she asked plaintively when she could see clearly.

Laura grinned. "It's OWL year! Come on!" She laughed and bounded out of the room.

"She is _way_ too cheerful for six in the morning," Michelle grumbled.

Astra groaned. "I'm sleeping another hour and a half," she announced, and took her glasses off again.

She properly got up just after seven for a quick shower and to dress. Michelle joined her in the bathroom and dumped a bag of makeup on the counter while Astra was brushing her teeth.

Astra watched with envy while Michelle put on the cosmetics. Once she'd spat, she said, "Wish I could do that."

"You don't have any?"

She shook her head. "Never figured out how to bring it up to Dad, and he's not really the type to think about it. He doesn't even replace his clothes until he can't fix them himself, and then he buys Muggle stuff from thrift stores and spells them to fit."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Appearance is _not_ high on his list of things to worry about."

"Huh. I just thought - when he wears short sleeves, you can _see_ his arms, and they're so…." She trailed off with a sigh and peeled her eye open to poke at the lids with a pencil.

Astra laughed. "You make him sound hot."

"Well, sorry, but he's the _definition_ of hot professor. And hot dad, come to think of it."

"Did _not_ need to hear that!"

"He is, though! But the way he and Issitudio look at each other...I don't stand a chance."

"You don't stand a chance because you're his student," Astra corrected, then frowned. "Issitudio?"

"You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"Watch them at breakfast. You'll see what I mean. Anyway, I'm about done here - want me to do yours?"

"Yeah, sure," Astra said eagerly. Maybe that would give her the confidence she needed to ask her dad to get her makeup of her own. And get her mind off the idea of _Dad_ and her _Transfiguration professor_ , because if she were a guy that would be one of the images she came up with to kill a boner.

"Cool," Michelle said, and got to work teaching her the basics: concealer, foundation, powder, eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick, lip gloss, lip liner, bronzer, blush - the list was endless, though thankfully Michelle didn't use it all on her. She ended up with red-and-gold eyeshadow, black mascara and eyeliner, and lip gloss. "If we had the same skin tone I'd do your foundation, too," Michelle said as she worked. "But you're a bit darker than I am. So tell me - what's the story with the necklace you're always wearing?"

Astra touched the little silver lines. "It's Orion. God and protector of hunters. Dad gave it to me for Christmas the year he started teaching me to hunt."

"Huh." Michelle tilted her head consideringly. "All right, I think we're done here."

Astra took Michelle's advice and watched Dad and Issitudio during breakfast. They sat next to each other, but that wasn't unusual; she knew they'd started teaching around the same time, just after the fall of Voldemort, and so they obviously would have been friendly. But were they paying a little too much attention to each other, sitting a little too close, laughing a little too loudly whenever one or the other spoke?

No. She was being silly. Dad liked women, or she wouldn't exist. It was as simple as that. So why couldn't she shake the uncomfortable nagging feeling?

She watched them closely at meals for the next few days. She had Transfiguration second block Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but her only Defense class was a double period on Wednesday afternoons that went right up until dinner.

That class was the first time she and her father had been close to each other all week. He blinked and mouthed, "Makeup?" when he caught sight of her, and she just shrugged in reply. They started on the Patronus Charm, and as he always did, Dad came down from his desk to walk among them and correct their wand movements and pronunciations.

"I need to talk to you," she muttered when he bent down to straighten her arm.

"Stay after class," he whispered back. "I'd rather miss dinner than fall further behind."

"You're behind too?"

"Not funny."

When class broke up, he took a seat and stretched out his right leg. Astra knew that knee was increasingly bothering him on rainy days and some sunny ones - he called it getting old. She called it hardheadedness, sure that Pomfrey had a potion to help him out.

"What's up, Astra?"

"I heard a rumor," she said. "About you."

"About me?" he repeated. "Is it the one about me and Professor Longbottom? Or Vector?"

"No," she said, watching his face. "You and Issitudio."

"Huh. Haven't heard that one before." He casually gave a wave of his wand, and the door to the classroom closed. "I'm telling you this because you're my daughter, I love you, and your opinion matters to me."

"It's true, then?" She swallowed. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Not quite," he said. "It's more like-"

The door blew open, and in stalked a dark-haired man in a trenchcoat. "Which of you is Sam Winchester?" he demanded. His voice sounded like he'd been gargling gravel in vodka for thirty years.

Dad stood, wand held loosely by his side in a pose designed to appear nonthreatening, but Astra had seen him cast from that position so quickly and accurately whoever he was facing hadn't even known Dad had moved before they were unconscious. "I am," he said. "And you are?"

The man ignored the question. "What do you know of Lucifer's Cage?"

"I'm not answering any more questions until you tell me what you are." Dad jerked his head, a clear command for Astra to get behind him. She obeyed instantly - this wasn't _Dad_ Dad, the one she could argue with, this was Hunter Dad, the one she listened to without question.

The man tilted his head. "My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."

Shadows of wings, ten feet across, appeared behind him. His eyes seemed to glow.

"And what would an angel want with us?" Dad asked, keeping his tone conversational.

"Not 'us'. Just _you_ , Samuel. The boy with demon blood."

"What?"

"You haven't been told?" The man - angel - _whatever_ \- frowned. "That is not right."

"What do you _want_ , Castiel?"

"Lucifer has been set free. You must return him to his Cage."

"Why us?"

"Because you are the only one who can." Castiel's head cocked again. "I must go," he said, and was gone.

The two of them stayed silent for a minute or so before Astra tentatively said, "Dad?"

His shoulders slumped. "Yeah?"

"What did he mean?"

"I don’t know."

"Was he really an angel?" She knew Dad believed in them, but for herself she wasn't so sure.

"I don't know. He Apparated inside Hogwarts, which means he's definitely not human."

"So - so what now?" she asked, dread creeping over her.

"Now?" he sighed. "Now we research. But Hogwarts doesn't have anything useful, at least not where you can get without a teacher's approval, so we'll wait until the weekend. I don't have a free moment until then."

"That's two days away," she said. "What if he's telling the truth?"

"Then we can't do anything about it anyway," he said. "Tell you what. I'll give you a pass into the Restricted Section's religion section. It's mostly about the Spanish Inquisition, but there might be something in there. McGonagall's the only one who can give you an all-access pass, but I don't want to involve her until I'm sure there's something wrong." He tapped a piece of paper, and spidery writing bloomed on the page. "I'll tell Pince myself that this pass is correct, and that as your father I take responsibility for anything you learn from those books. But your schoolwork comes first, is that clear?" His eyes caught and held hers.

"Yeah, clear," she said, taking the pass from him. "I'll go ahead and-"

"Oh, no," he said, closing the door again. "We're going to talk about this."

"This?"

"Have a seat." He waited until she was sitting to sit himself and stretch his leg out again. "As I was saying, you're my daughter, and I value your thoughts. Professor Issitudio and I have been good friends for quite some time, and recently we've been considering becoming something more. If you're not comfortable, we'll refrain at least until you're out of school and have your own place."

"But you like women."

"And men. I can like both." Dad shrugged. "We talked about this, remember? Bisexuality?"

"Yeah," she said, "I remember, it's just - you didn't mention anything _then_ , so I thought…"

"I didn't say anything because that conversation was about you, not me," he said.

"Um." She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "If it'll make you happy, how can I say no?"

He smiled. "Thanks, baby doll. Your approval means everything to me."

She smiled back. "So can I get some makeup?"

"Ah, yes." His smile turned a little wry. "Who's been doing yours, Miss Kinyon?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" she asked, surprised.

He laughed. "You're wearing the same color eyeshadow and the same shade of lip gloss."

"Oh. Right." She blushed a little bit.

Dad reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, but instead of pulling away he kept his hand on her cheek. "Just let me know what you'd like, and I'll run out and get it this weekend." He sighed. "You look more like your mom every day, you know that? We were about your age when we met."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And it wasn't much later we had you. So - not to ruin the moment or anything, and I don't regret you, not one bit, but a baby when you're a teenager isn't ideal. Remember the contraceptive charm I taught you, and if someone's pressuring you just walk away."

"DAD!" she wailed, and fled the room.

As he'd promised, Dad took the note to Pince himself. She sniffed when Astra went in after dinner but didn't try to stop her going back to the Restricted Section and finding the shelves marked 'religion'. Astra skipped the books on Greek gods, Zoroastrianism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Judaism. A good-size portion was dedicated to Christianity, and she started there, ignoring anything with 'Crusades' or 'Inquisition' in the title.

The first book was some form of Bible, she thought. Everyone knew the very beginning: _In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…_

She sat against a shelf and started reading, not putting the book back until curfew drew near. She only just got back to the common room before it began.

The next two days passed similarly, classes and reading in the library, worried sick that Castiel had been telling the truth and Lucifer had, indeed, risen. She found a book on angelology, and could at least confirm that Castiel was the name of an angel.

She also learned they had to possess people, not all of whom were strong enough to hold them. The graphic descriptions of what happened to those poor people, depicted in lovingly detailed woodcuts on the facing page, made her swallow and turn the page before she lost her dinner.

Lucifer was the very last entry, and also one of the longest. Over twenty pages she read about how he had mouthed off one too many times and been ordered to leave. When he didn't, a civil war occurred. God disappeared in the brouhaha, lending anger to both sides of the conflict. It only ended when Michael managed to throw Lucifer into the darkest pit of Hell and seal him inside. There was a list of more than six hundred ways to free him, of which only sixty-six had to be completed.

She took the book straight to Dad, who promised to call Adam and Dean and have them look into any of the seals. He also gave her a package wrapped in plain brown paper, which she opened only when she got to her dorm. There was a note inside:

_Astra-_

_Your dad asked for my help with makeup. I put in a sheet with some general blending/contouring tips. Best of luck with your OWL year!_

_Auntie Jess_

The box held large quantities of concealer and powder foundation that matched her skin tone, eyeliner in four different colors, 'Very Black' mascara, blush, and a collection of forty colors of eyeshadow.

She penned a quick note - _Thanks for the makeup, Auntie Jess! Hope everything's going well with you. Astra_ \- and put it aside to take to the Owlery the next morning.

She continued reading the restricted books about Christianity, fascinated by them and thinking nothing of the fact that all of them were in English, even the first-edition Bible she'd found her first night there. On the next Friday, though, Dad held her back after class. "There's a meeting tonight," he said without preamble. "The Order of the Phoenix. McGonagall recalled them, and most of us who fought the in Last Battle. Castiel's information was good. Lucifer has risen, and now we have to figure out how to fight him."

"Okay."

"I want you there. Some of the older ones will complain - you're still in school and underage - but fuck them."

Astra grinned, more at Dad's language than anything. "When?"

"Nine o'clock. Meet me at McGonagall's office after dinner and we'll go together."

"All right," she said.

"Now go. And get some vegetables in you."

"Get some food in you," she retorted, and took off before Dad could respond.

As Dad had warned her, the instant she stepped into the room there was an uproar. An old woman started yelling at Dad. A man with a false eye and a wooden leg tried to escort her upstairs. A redheaded man and woman who seemed to be around Dad's age grinned at her but made a half-hearted attempt to send her off anyway.

"ENOUGH!" Dad bellowed after five minutes. "My daughter's as invested in this as any of you. It's _our_ family involved in this, so BUZZ OFF!"

"There's no call to be rude," the old woman said huffily.

"Ah, Mum, you were laying into him like you did when he was fifteen," the middle-aged redhead man said. "I'm George, by the way," he told Astra.

"Ginny," the woman said.

"Married?" she asked, looking between them.

"Oh _god_ no," Ginny said. "He's my brother."

"So you're dear Sam's daughter," George said, gesturing expansively. "The child of a hunter and a healer."

"How d'you know him?" Astra asked.

"He lived with us after his fourth year," Ginny explained. "In this house, in fact, which belongs to Sirius - the guy over by the fireplace, you see him?"

"Yeah," Astra said, catching sight of a tall, thin man with a wrinkled face and long, greying brown hair.

"If we could begin, please?" McGonagall called, and everyone found a seat. Astra sat on the end, next to Dad, and looked up at her. Issitudio was on Dad's other side. "Friends," McGonagall began, "a threat greater than Voldemort has appeared. Lucifer himself is risen."

Gasps of shock rose up around the table.

"The good news," she said, "is that angels are required to possess humans, and very few are capable of holding archangels - which is what Lucifer is. Our first task must be to identify the vessels and persuade them to hold out."

"What if they don't?" someone Astra didn't know asked.

McGonagall's jaw tightened. "Then we have already lost. I need people going over genealogy, finding the previous vessel and drawing down their bloodlines-"

"On it," a blond man said. "And I'm sure we have weapons that can work against him, it's just a matter of finding them and learning to use them."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Any other volunteers?" Two more adults offered to join Malfoy.

"The next thing is to find a way to hold him."

"On it," a bushy-haired brunette chirped. "I'll put out feelers and look myself."

"Excellent, Mrs. Granger. The Winchesters are already looking at the books within Hogwarts - focus on outside libraries. Weapons, now." More volunteers. "And, finally, a way to protect ourselves from him."

The last of the room took that job.

"And so we have it," McGonagall said grimly. "Use the old ways of communicating, and keep this _quiet._ We do _not_ want a panic."

"Yes ma'am," the room rumbled in reply, and they all stood.

Dad sighed. "All right, Astra. Head on back to Hogwarts. There are some people I need to talk to about other things."

"But-" she started.

"Not related to Lucifer," Dad interrupted. "Go on, now. Floo to my office - it's closer to the Gryffindor dormitory."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, and went back to school. Exhaustion crashed over her when she reached the Gryffindor common room, and she crawled into bed without even taking off her clothes.  
***  
Halloween approached, came, and went. Dad was always paranoid, but Astra didn't really see the big deal. Nothing bad had happened on Halloween as long as she could remember.

At the beginning of November, McGonagall announced a dance set for the last day of term. Whispers broke out - there hadn't been a dance at Hogwarts for as long as anyone could remember. Rumor had it the last time there was a ball, somebody had _died_.

After dinner, they all trooped to Dad's classroom. It was always chaotic in here, with students doing target practice, working on their shields, or writing essays while dodging wayward spells. The only rule was that they _had_ to be doing schoolwork - he hadn't had that rule originally, or so she'd been told, but the sheer number of people in the room was becoming a problem. Banning games knocked the number down to a more manageable level.

The first thing they did when they walked in the room was cast a shield charm to deflect a rogue Stunner. It careened off into the wall.

"You ruined it!" a sixth-year complained.

Michelle blinked. "What?"

"They were working on deflecting at a certain angle," Dad said. "Like hot potato. They bounced it around six shields that time!"

"Let's try for ten," one of the girls said. " _Stupefy!_ "

The fifth-year Gryffindors found an empty spot on the floor and dumped out their bags. "All right, so Charms essay first?" Rocky said, sounding tired. Lily nodded.

It was almost curfew by the time they left. Astra stayed behind. "So. A dance?" she asked excitedly.

Dad groaned and stretched out his leg. "Yeah. Last day of term. You heard McGonagall."

"So I can get new clothes?" she asked slyly.

Dad snorted out a laugh. "I should have known that's what you were after," he said. "We'll go by Gringotts after the meeting tomorrow night, pull out some money. Maybe shop if any are still open, or you can go to the Gladrags store in Hogsmeade on your next weekend."

"Thanks, Dad," Astra said. "Any news from Castiel?"

"He hasn't dropped in again."

"It's been almost a month now."

"I know. I got a message from Luna - she went to Australia with her husband to look for something that doesn't exist - and she says she found the Antichrist in a ten-year-old boy.. There were angels trying to grab him. She's running scared - she, the Antichrist, and Newt are in Grimmauld Place now, which was warded with some symbols Hermione and Draco dug up in the Department of Mysteries."

"Those two worked together?" Astra asked. She'd seen the two of them interact only once, when she was very young, but she'd never forgotten it. Oil and fire were a better mix.

"They work pretty well as long as they have a common goal," Dad said. "When they're socializing, _then_ they lose it."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Huh." He stretched his left arm over his head. "So that's the latest update until the meeting tomorrow."

"And I'm coming with you again?"

"Of course, baby doll. Castiel came to _us_ , not _me_. That means you're part of this, too, and even if you weren't, _I_ am, and you're old enough to be." Dad leaned forward. "You're not going to be cut out of _anything,_ Astra, I promise you that."

She laughed uncomfortably. "Why do you pick the weirdest times to get touchy-feely?"

Dad laughed, too. "Not looking for reassurance, then? Just a yes-or-no?"

"Pretty good for off the top of your head," she said dryly.

"Ugh. Get to bed, Astra. You have a Transfiguration exam tomorrow, right?"

Astra cocked her head. "Right. You and Issitudio. How's that going?"

Dad smiled shyly. "Pretty well, actually. Still new, but we're figuring it out."

"Good. Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Astra."

There were no longer any naysayers to her presence at the Order meetings. Dad had made it abundantly clear that as her father _he_ would be the one deciding what was best for her, and for that she was grateful.

News was shared. Pansy Parkinson, an international news journalist, had confirmed the breaking of at least sixty-five seals, which meant that some righteous man had shed blood in Hell, whatever that meant. Did souls bleed? Luna Lovegood and her husband, Newt Scamander, attended the meeting with a boy named Jesse Turner. The boy was the only one younger than she herself was, but he was the Antichrist, so his attendance went unquestioned. Hermione Granger passed around copies of the wards to keep away angels, and a Banishing Sigil that had to be done in human blood. Viktor Krum showed them a tentative outline of Lucifer's movements, which seemed to be focused in America for some reason.

"Still no luck on figuring out who the vessels are," Mrs. Granger said. "Malfoy and I have been looking into it, but no luck."

"I'm considering pulling Susan Bones in," Mr. Malfoy said. "Astoria and I have both been working on it, but we're not getting anywhere.

"Ron's been trying, but you know how he is," Mrs. Granger said, sounding frustrated. "He's a better father than he is a researcher."

"He's a better _anything_ than a researcher," somebody Astra didn't know said.

"Hey! Be nice!" Dad said quickly.

"Not at school, Sam," Issitudio said dryly, to laughs all around.

"But my daughter _is_ here," Dad said back.

"Like I haven't sai- er, heard worse," Astra said, correcting herself quickly.

Dad raised his eyebrows at her, but thankfully moved on. "Back on track - maybe we're going at this the wrong way," he said. "We know there must be someone capable of holding Lucifer. Maybe instead of going back to the beginning of time and tracking genealogy, we should just be looking for that one person _now._ "

"How would we do that?" Mrs. Granger asked. "We have no way to track it!"

"Well, there are angel-banishing sigils, right? It follows that there should be angel-summoning sigils. So if we can get one, we can ask one. Astra's been looking in the Hogwarts library, but Draco, Hermione, is there anything in the Ministry archives?"

"We'll keep looking," Mr. Malfoy said.

As promised, Dad took her shopping in Diagon afterwards. He stood there and very politely nodded while she tried on different styles and colors for almost an hour before finally deciding on a deep burgundy tea-length dress with a princess skirt, an empire waist, and a sweetheart neckline to emphasize her rather small breasts.

"Got your eye on anyone in particular?" Dad asked.

"No. I figure Lily and I can go and make f- er…."

Dad laughed. "I get it. Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and I all went together our fourth year."

"Yeah?" She rarely heard stories about Crabbe; all she knew was that he'd drawn a picture that was framed on her dad's desk at home and that he'd died in the war. "How'd that go?"

"Yeah. I left early - just lost interest. But now, come on. We have to get back."

Astra groaned and let him fold her into a one-armed hug. She gripped him back, shopping bag dangling from her hand, and held her breath through the too-familiar crushing feeling. When they landed, she kept her arms around Dad for a few extra moments, knowing that his shoulder would be sending bolts of pain through him so strong his knees buckled - and sure enough, just after touchdown, she was supporting perhaps half his weight. She couldn't see his face, but she knew what it would look like, eyes screwed up and teeth clenched.

"You need to eat more junk food," she said when they separated. "It's getting easier to keep you standing."

"You're just growing," Dad said. "And you need to eat more vegetables." He opened the gate to the Hogwarts grounds. "Come on, in you go, off to bed."

"Use enough prepositions?" she teased, slipping under his arm.

Dad groaned. "I should _not_ have sent you to Muggle school until you were ten."  
***  
November passed quickly. Almost before they knew it, the end-of-term exams were approaching. Hagrid, the half-giant Care of Magical Creatures professor whose beard was now more salt than pepper, had them tell him the proper diet for a sick unicorn and give three differences between crups and knarls. Issitudio made them transfigure a teapot into a tortoise, telling them it was that sort of completely-useless trick they'd be tested on in their OWLs. Dad gave them a written theory exam and then had them perform each spell he'd taught them that year, and a few he'd shown them in years past. Her Arithmancy test was long columns of numbers; for Divination, she just looked into a teacup and made up a few animals for the batty old witch.

One other important thing happened in November, though: Drew Timmons asked her to the ball. He'd been the first person Astra had met on the train, and five years later, he'd grown into an awkward boy whose Ravenclaw robes were far too short for his lanky frame. Naturally, Astra accepted the invitation despite his shortcomings, jumping at the chance for her first boyfriend.

"You look beautiful," Drew said, leaning down to kiss her cheek in the Entrance Hall the night of the dance. "Here - I made you something. My parents said it was tradition to give your date a corsage" - he fit a slim white band with a matching carnation on her wrist - "so I conjured this. It's everlasting. I think. If I did it right, which I'm pretty sure I did."

"It's lovely," she said. "Shall we go in?"

They entered the Hall to find is transformed. Sparkling icicles hung from the walls, the floor was frosted over, and the various colors of the dresses and robes made the Hall look smaller than ever. More interestingly, the long House tables had been replaced with smaller, circular ones, all of which were covered with tablecloths whose blue loops and whorls twisted and danced across a white background.

"Let's find a place," Drew said, taking her hand.

Drew turned out to be...very dull, actually. He talked about his family and schoolwork incessantly, and Astra's eyes drooped despite her best attempt to listen. He was even duller than Binns.

She barely noticed when dinner disappeared and dessert replaced it. She grabbed a piece of tiramisu and a cup of coffee, desperate to stay awake and at least _appear_ to be paying attention. The problem was that Drew seemed physically incapable of talking about something that didn't involve either him or his cat, and Astra just did. Not. Care.

"Save me," she mouthed at Lily, who was sitting at another table. Drew didn't even notice, but Lily came right over and smiled. "Having a nice time?" she asked.

Astra was so surprised to hear the near-silent Lily actually _speak_ she could only blink. Drew grinned up at her. "Yeah! Hey, let me tell you about Mr. Tubbins."

"Actually, I need to borrow Astra for a minute. Excuse us."

Astra half-smiled and followed Lily out of the hall. "Thank you!" she said, barely restraining the impulse to hug her friend and only managing because she knew Lily hated any and all contact. "That was _amazing!_ "

"Couldn't leave you hanging," Lily said, breathy voice quieter here than it was in the Hall.

"Are you having a nice time?"

"Oh, yes. Eavesdropping is always fun."

Astra cackled. "I hope so. Thanks again."

Lily smiled, grinning so brightly she showed teeth. "You're welcome, Astra. I'll see you tonight."

Astra went to the bathroom, more out of a need to be out of sight than a need to relieve herself. She retouched her lipstick out of sheer boredom before she returned, wondering how long she had to suffer through Drew before she could leave politely.

"Hey, everything okay?" Drew asked when she got back.

She forced a smile. "Fine. Just girl stuff."

He made a face. " _Way_ too much information. So as I was saying, we got Mr. Tubbins a new cat toy, and he liked the box more than the toy. Weird, right?"

"Totally," Astra said automatically, mind already slipping away to the stacks. There had to be _one_ religion book in the library she hadn't already found, one way to find Lucifer's vessel.

"-and so my dad said to me, _Hey, Drew, what's with all the catnip?_ Ha ha ha! Oh, hey, look, the lights are dimming."

They were, and they were more interesting than the time Drew accidentally grew a catnip patch in his garage. Somehow he managed to make even _that_ boring.

Astra stood. "Shall we dance?"

"Sure!" Drew said enthusiastically.

Drew had two left feet to go with his dull personality, and Astra had to watch her toes carefully. She still got stepped on. "Let's sit down," she said quickly when the song was over.

"Aw, but I like this one!" Drew said, following her anyway.

Astra started faking yawns twenty minutes later. Drew didn't notice. An hour after that, she looked at her watch and said, "Look at the time! I should be getting to bed."

"But it's still early!"

"I'm tired, Drew. I'll see you tomorrow," she said, and stood.  
 _Stir my cauldron, baby,  
And we'll make it right_

Drew stood, too. "Come on. One more dance."

"C'mon, Drew, I wanna get to bed."

"And I want to dance!"

_Stir my cauldron, baby,  
Stop all my lonely nights_

"Then find someone else who wants to!" She turned, but had barely taken a step before Drew grabbed her arm. She broke the grip without thinking and spun, weight centered on her back foot (and _damn_ , she wished she wasn't wearing heels). "Don't you grab me."

"Then listen to me!"

_Come on darling,  
Just give me a chance_

"I've been listening all night!" Astra snapped. "I know more about Mr. Tubbins than I ever-"

The doors crashing open with a _boom_ distracted everyone before Astra could complete that sentence. Students hurried back or forward, and Astra pushed toward the rapidly-opening hole in the crowd of students, eager to see what was going on, putting a hand on the small silver knife tucked into the buckle of her decorative belt. It had been a gift from Dad the year before, when he realized that witches didn't have the same number of pockets wizards did.

Castiel stalked forward. "Sam!" he called authoritatively.

_I'll make it worth your while  
I know how to please a man!_

"I'm here," Dad said, pushing his way through the other side of the ring.

"We must talk. Come," Castiel said, and walked out.

Astra followed the two of them, Celestina Warbeck's warbling drowned out when the Great Hall doors closed behind the three of them. Astra and her father stood side-by-side, hands on wands and knives, ready to cast a Slicing Spell and draw the banishing sigil on the wall behind them.

"Why have you not done what needs to be done?" Castiel demanded.

"We're trying to stop it," Dad snapped back.

"The only way it can be stopped is for Michael and Lucifer to take their vessels," Castiel said impatiently.

"I don't believe that," Dad said. "That fight would rip the world in two."

"But it would be _over._ "

"And everything on this planet would die! But fine. You _really_ wanna help? Tell us who the vessels are."

Castiel stared at them. "Have you not figured it out yet?"

Astra looked up at Dad, who looked angrier than she'd ever seen him. "No," she answered for him.

" _You two_ are Lucifer's vessels," Castiel spat. "Dean or Adam is Michael's. You must say yes and allow the fight to occur."

"And if we refuse?"

Castiel tilted his head, and suddenly, all the air in Astra's lungs vanished. She dropped to her knees, fighting for breath; beside her, Dad did the same.

"I just removed your lungs," Castiel said, watching them clinically. "We have other ways of making you cooperate." A sword appeared in his hand.

Astra's lungs reasserted themselves, but she still couldn't breathe.

"You either say 'yes' by the end of next May, or we will come for you," Castiel said calmly. "Sam, you remember what happens when angels teach lessons, don't you?"

And with that last parting shot, he was gone.

Astra and Dad helped each other to their feet. "What did he mean?" Astra asked.

Dad's jaw clenched. "There are some things I never told you."

"Then tell me now."

Dad studied her. "All right," he said finally. "Come on - to my quarters. This isn't something we should be discussing in the Entrance Hall."

And so he laid it out. How he'd died at twelve from the basilisk bite, and the angel had made it clear he wasn't supposed to die yet. How he'd tried to kill himself at fourteen and been tortured by the angels for months before they allowed his soul to return to his body. How he should have pieced it together before this, because he'd begun having prophetic dreams again.

They ended up sitting on his bed, hugging each other. Astra had cried most of the way through the cleanly-edited story of the suicide attempt.

A knock interrupted them. "Sam?" a man called, opening the door. "You in here?"

"With Astra," Dad called back pleasantly. Astra buried her head in the side of his robes until the door closed again and Issitudio left them alone. Dad's clothing always smelled like honeysuckle, and she had yet to figure out why or how.

Castiel's visit ramped the Order's efforts up to eleven. Astra stayed up all night reading religion books only to come up empty on ideas. She paid attention in the meetings and jotted down useful information in a notebook she kept stashed in her pocket.

She most definitely did _not_ see Drew again. That wasn't hard: when class resumed, everybody was too busy with OWL prep to socialize. Sam, the Slytherin girl with whom Astra and Drew had shared their first compartment, developed a facial tic from the nerves. Rocky became manic, staying up for days on end studying only to crash _hard_ on Friday night, often not waking up until mid-Sunday. Astra contracted a series of colds, which Pomfrey told her had more to do with stress weakening her immune system than with what the Muggles were calling 'superbugs', and when she wasn't sneezing her head and shoulders were pounding from tension headaches.

As chaotic as life was, it shouldn't have been surprising to see a notice for a Hogsmeade weekend and realize with a jolt they were already halfway through February. Every fifth-year Gryffindor remained in the common room, working on a tricky essay for Ferrington on the differences between thickening through reduction, tapioca, or potato starch.

The Castiel-imposed deadline drew nearer, and Astra started getting strange dreams where a blond man kept telling her that if she said the word 'yes' he could make all her problems disappear.

She brought it up to her father, who paled. "That's Lucifer," he said. "Don't ever say that word."

Their luck broke in March: Mrs. Granger and Mr. Malfoy had found a passage in Archaic Assyrian that claimed the energy from making Lucifer's Cage had been sealed into the rings of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Twelve people were dispatched to find the rings and bring them back; in the meanwhile, Mrs. Granger and Mr. Malfoy would continue looking for a way to force him into the cage he'd spent so long trying to escape.

"There is one way," Dad said tentatively, drawing eyes. "It's possible for victims of possession to overthrow their possessor, given enough motivation."

"Absolutely not," McGonagall said at once.

"No chance in hell," Mrs. Potter said bluntly.

"Plan Z," Professor Longbottom delicately.

Dad shrugged. "It's an option," he said, ignoring Issitudio's eyes boring holes into the side of his face and Astra's hand gripping his arm tight enough that her nails drew blood.

The rings came in, one at a time. First was Pestilence, whom they'd subdued at a hospital after taking quadruple-strength Preventative Potions. Then came War, whose finger had been taken off at a town reenacting the Civil War with its own residents. Then Famine, who had been dispatched through a series of quick Apparitions to determine his location, an exorcism to deal with the contingent of demons surrounding him, and taking his ring before he had a chance to affect them. Last was Death, who gave his ring willingly to Uncle Dean. Dad traveled to America to take the ring from him and returned with a black eye he refused to discuss.

Mrs. Granger found the answer at the tail end of April. "It's Enochian," she said exultantly, twitching her wand. Symbols rose in the air. " _Beh voh tah mo en tah beh geh sah bah bah loh en_. Open the mouth of the cave of the wicked one."

"Now we just need a way to trick him inside," Mr. Potter said, rubbing his eyes.

"We'll get there," Issitudio said. "Without anyone doing something stupid."

April left, and May arrived. "What did you get for number six?" Michelle asked her the last Sunday before OWLs began.

Astra scowled at her paper and fisted her hair in her hand, tugging hard. "I don't know. Triangle? It doesn't make sense."

The portrait banged open, which didn't even merit a second look anymore. A seventh-year student had discovered that slamming doors open and closed helped her to deal with the stress of the impending examinations.

"Er - Professor?" somebody asked uncertainly, which _did_ merit a second look.

"Astra - where's-"

Dad scanned the room, gaunt face anxious. Astra stood.

"Astra," he said, stumbling toward her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, worried.

He pulled her into a hug. "Oh, baby doll," he whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she asked, returning the hug. Dad seemed like he needed it.

"If I don't say yes, he's going to take you instead and hurt you until I do."

Astra's blood ran cold. "No. Don't-"

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking. He drew away and fumbled at his neck. "Take this."

He pressed something into her hands and closed her fingers around it. Then he kissed her forehead. "Daddy loves you, baby doll. Have a good life."

And then he was gone, running back out of the room. She uncurled her fingers and saw three rings on a chain.

He'd given her their wedding rings.

"No," she whispered.

"Er - Astra?" the Head Boy asked uncertainly. "What was that about?"

"Dad's gone," she said numbly, unaware there were tears coursing down her cheeks.

"He's your father?" a younger student asked incredulously.

"Yeah," she said. A flicker of anger rose in her, breaking through the numbness of disbelief. "Yeah, he is, and he's _not_ doing this alone."

She dashed out of the common room and down the stairs. She didn't even know where he was going, but knowing him, he wouldn't say 'yes' in a castle full of students.

"Miss Winchester!" McGonagall yelled. "It is _past curfew!_ "

"Dad's saying yes!" Astra screamed back at her, not even slowing.

She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard McGonagall say _"Fuck."_

She made it through the doors and down the path, only to slam headfirst into the gate. "No!" she yelled, shaking the iron. It refused to budge. Spelled, then.

She tore back up into the castle. McGonagall would let her out, she'd have to. She cared about Dad, Astra knew she did, and Astra couldn't let him do this, even if she was the one who was taken instead.

Why was it, she wondered, that when she needed a teacher there were none to be found? None of them answered knocks on their office doors. McGonagall wasn't in her office. The only people she saw in the hours she spent searching were a few giggly couples going back to their common rooms after midnight assignations. Out of places to look and unwilling to be around people, she returned to the Great Hall and stared numbly at the lawn through the windows, hoping that Dad would come back and she'd see him trudging up the grassy slope.

Morning broke around her. Soon enough, chattering groups of students filled the hall, bringing noise with them. Around eight somebody sat beside her. "What happened last night?" they asked.

She blinked and mumbled, "What?"

"What happened?" they repeated.

She looked to her right. "Michelle," she whispered.

"Yeah, Astra, it's me. What happened?"

"Dad went to fight, and he didn't come back," she said quietly.

"Who did he go to fight?"

"Not who," she said quietly. " _What._ I can't tell you more, I'm sorry-"

"It's fine. How about some tea?"

"Tea?" she asked, voice cracking. "Dad's gone, and you want me to drink _tea?_ "

"It's OWL week, remember? We have Arithmancy first-"

"I can't take-" Astra yelled, standing and whirling to face her friend. She broke off when the doors to the Great Hall slammed open, revealing her father. Blood dripped off his once-beige pants and pooled at his feet.

Silence fell almost instantly as Dad cracked his neck. "Well," said conversationally, "that was a fun night."

"Professor?" somebody asked uncertainly.

Dad's eyes focused on him, a boy in Hufflepuff. "I'm not your professor," he said, and threw out his hand.

His _right_ hand.

 _This isn't Dad,_ Astra thought as the Hufflepuff flew across the room and hit the wall.

With that thought came a surge of rage, and the next thing she knew she was flying at him, knowing it was useless but unable to just _sit there_ and _do nothing._

Her father's hand caught her by the throat and picked her up until her feet dangled. "You think to defy me?" he snarled, ignoring the Stunning Spells hitting him.

She screamed wordlessly and punched him. He pulled back his other fist and let fly, catching her full in the face. He dropped her at the same time, and she crumpled at his feet.

A foot caught her ribs, turning her over onto her back. "He's screaming, you know," Lucifer said conversationally. "Screaming at me. Cursing me. _Don't hurt her!_ But I'm in control, and he thought to defy me. He must be punished, and you are the rod I will use to hurt him." He kicked her again, then once more. 

"He will feel the crunching of your _bones._ " Something in her side snapped. "He will see the blood pour from your body." This time he kicked her in the face, and a flare of pain told her he'd broken her nose. "He - will - regret - defying - me!" Each word was underscored by another kick.

She was hauled to standing, and he punched her twice more. But then, the next time he pulled his fist back, he hesitated. Something flickered in his eyes.

"Dad?" she whimpered.

That did it. His fist uncurled, and he staggered back, dropping her in the process. "Astra," he gasped. "It's okay, Astra. I got him."

"Dad," she said again.

He visibly swallowed. His left hand dove into the pocket of his robes, and he pulled something out. He opened his hand, and the object clicked against the wall. He spoke the words Mrs. Granger had told them about so many months ago, and a hole opened.

"I love you," he whispered, and dove inside. The hole closed behind him, and the object _clunk_ -ed to the ground. She forced herself to her feet and staggered to the wall. "Dad," she whispered, putting her hand against it. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she landed on the ground again. Something hard dug into her thigh, and she dug it out. It was four rings, stuck together into a square shape. The horsemen's rings.

God help him, Dad had just jumped into Hell.

" _Episkey,_ " somebody murmured, and she felt her nose shift back into place.

She looked up to see a man in the red robes of an Auror. "He was here?" the man asked.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "And then he opened the portal and jumped."

"But not before beating you. _Episkey._ " Her ribs aligned. The man sat back on his heels and brushed his hair off his forehead, revealing a scar everybody in the wizarding world knew and eyes Astra knew from the Order meetings. "I should've gotten here sooner, but I was busy dealing with the other casualties. It took me a while to figure out where he'd gone."

"He would've killed you, too," she said dully. "He - it took him a little while, to get control back. We all knew there was a chance of this."

"Do you know why he took in Lucifer before the rest of us were ready?"

She swallowed and looked down. "He threatened to come after me instead."

"That would do it," Mr. Potter said.

"He didn't get control until Lucifer'd already started beating me," she said softly. "Strong emotion beats possession, remember?"

"Yeah, Astra. I remember." He swallowed. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No." She swallowed, too, and felt the shame of tears burn behind her eyes. "The others - are they-"

"I'm sorry," Potter said quietly. "We only just saved Neville, Luna, and Professor Issitudio. When the sun came up, it was like he lost interest."

"He was coming here," Astra said. "He said he wanted to punish Dad for trying to defy him. So he came after me."

"I'm sorry," Potter said again. He held out his hand. " I need the rings back."

Astra hesitated and clenched her hand tight. "But-"

"No buts, Astra," he said firmly. "I need those rings."

"But Dad-"

"Your father knew what would happen," Potter interrupted. "He planned on this. This was Plan Z, and we all knew that. I need the rings, Astra."

"No."

Potter grabbed her wrist. "I need the rings."

"No!" she yelled. "Let go of me!"

Potter had weight, strength, and training on his side. Astra couldn't hold on to the rings any more than she could fly without a broom. She struggled, though, pulling her fist as far away as she could and clawing like a wildcat. Potter got the rings away from her, and she beat his chest, barely aware she was screaming.

He pulled her close. "I know," he said, "I know."

And just like that, the floodgates opened. She collapsed against him, sobbing, because her dad had just thrown himself into the deepest pit of hell and she couldn't do a single goddamn thing to save him.


	4. Epilogue

It had taken her two years, a shit-ton of research, and a backlog of failing grades, but she'd figured out how to pull a body and a soul from Lucifer's cage.

The surviving members of the Order had helped, pity in their eyes when she begged them to do something. Professor Issitudio calmed her when she freaked, which had happened almost constantly in the beginning but had gone down to a more manageable level. He also had the honor of being the only person to believe Astra when she said it had to be possible to get her father out.

So here they were in the Entrance Hall in the dead of night, sketching spirals and Enochian runes in Astra's blood and chanting in High Assyrian. It was experimental, but the research had panned out. The first time had ended with Astra unconscious from blood loss and Dad no closer to getting out. Their third try had landed them both in the hospital wing for reasons unknown. On their fifth attempt Issitudio had fainted from exhaustion.

Now, their sixth attempt, was bound to be the most successful. Astra had to believe she could get her father out, because otherwise everything they'd done had been for naught.

" _-bah bah lo en ollor!_ " she finished, slicing an angel blade across her wrist. A nameless angel with red hair had donated it before disappearing to parts unknown.

Bright light filled the center of the room. Issitudio flinched back, covering his eyes, but Astra stared straight into the center, willing her father's body to rise.

It didn't 'rise' so much as 'coalesce into being' - one moment there was light pouring from a hole, and the next the light had solidified, densified, and changed colors, leaving a naked man Astra would recognize anywhere lying on the floor.

"Dad!" she screamed, and ran to him.

"Not her," Dad moaned. "Please, not her. Don't use her again, _please_."

"Dad, Dad, its me. It's Astra. It's your baby doll," she said. "We got you out. Victor and Vector and Hermione and Draco and I, we got you out."

"I don't believe you," Dad whispered, and passed out.

He was placed in the locked ward of St. Mungo's Hospital. It took six months to convince him that he wasn't delusional and Lucifer wasn't playing a trick on him. It took four after that for him to be able to touch anyone without flinching. A month after that he was released, and he returned to his job as Defense professor the next September, ousting Potter to everyone's relief - a war hero he may have been, but he was _terrible_ at teaching.

Astra herself was immediately offered a job in the Department of Mysteries, no NEWTs required, no questions asked. She accepted and mentored under the head of the department.

It took years, but all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;_; And so it's done.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support over the past few months. Some of you probably know that I got this idea on May 28, 2014. All of you know that I'm publishing this last installment in November of the same year. My original goal was to finish this and post it by September 28, four months to the day since this little plot bunny burrowed its way into my head and wouldn't leave, but that didn't quite happen. 
> 
> I never would have imagined this would become such an important part of my life, and I certainly never realized so many people would enjoy this so much. This story has spawned its own fan-run blog, inspired artists (CelestialFeathers, I'm looking at you!), and created more discussions than I can count.
> 
> I'm writing this original note on September 12, near midnight. Chapter one has just been finished. And I'm crying, because this story and you readers have become some of the most important things in my life. I've written over 200000 words in four months for this series alone. The notes and kudos and comments I've gotten have been absolutely surreal, and I'm not even done yet.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me through some ill-thought-out plots and a nightmare of mistakes that I've had to go back and fix when you've pointed them out to me. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life for the past four months, no matter how small that part might be. I can't believe how kind you have all been.


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